A while back they started to fix the roads where we live. Apparently it had been a problem for some time and there was a lot of fighting and politics involved. A lot of things happen here during election years, and because this was a huge election year, the national government (as opposed to the city government who is supposed to fix their own streets) allotted a boat load of money to fix the roads in Santiago.
Like all well planned government actions, they started fixing the roads in every single neighborhood with bad roads at once. No problem if you’ve got the materials and equipment to do it. But this project was short on everything from the start.
When we moved in, I had a little bit of hope that they’d finish the roads – or at least my road, because we live on the principal street. It was, after all, an election year, and there were still 6 weeks until election day. After two weeks living here, though, I gave up. They had come to work on the roads every day for an hour. And mostly what they were doing was fixing the work they had done the day before.
A few days before election there was a protest – complete with news coverage and angry neighbors association members. What had happened was that the heavy equipment was taken to another neighborhood because that neighborhood had burned tires and threw stones in protest of the lack of work. But guess what? That’s what our neighborhood was prepared to do if they didn’t get those trucks back here a.s.a.p.
And miracle of miracle, the very next working day, those trucks were rolling up and down the street doing a whole lot of looking pretty and very little work.
The neighbors were happy that work was being done – but deep down I think everyone knew they wouldn’t finish in time for elections. They had just “inaugurated” streets in the barrio next door even though half of the streets weren’t finished! It’s amazing what poor, illiterate, uneducated people fall for during elections.
After elections they worked for a week. We haven’t seen them since. Supposedly there is a deficit of 25 million Dominican pesos because of the project to fix Santiago’s streets (and win votes on the correct side of the ballot). I’ve heard everything from there is no asphalt to finish to the disaster in the gulf has left us without petroleum to mix the asphalt. Nobody really knows what happens because the government just pretends the situation never happened.
There’s another election – a presidential – in 2012. I’m thinking that by the time that rolls around, we’ll get a paved street. And because it’s that important to win a vote, they might even paint the lines down the middle.

polygamy?

A long time ago I met this guy – an older guy – who was friends with Amalio. Deported from the states for god only knows what, he would come over to reminisce about his days causing havoc in New York.
Super nice guy. With a lovely wife. There was just one thing. His wife couldn’t have babies. So, he had another wife. Not a lover. A wife. The mother of his children.
Weird, right?
So, we haven’t seen him in ages and we ran into him in the supermarket the other day. Him, his wife-with-no-babies and his brand-new son. A two month old baby. I, of course, assume that something happened and his wife (no babies) was able to have a baby. Yay! So, I say something to that affect but was quickly corrected.
This was not her baby, it was the other woman’s baby. But, wife number 1 got tired of not having any babies around, so she’s going to raise this one. Which I guess isn’t so weird, but then taxi drivers son comes over with HIS brand-new two month old baby. And because the son works too much and the mom (apparently) is a “good for nothing” the wife (no babies) is going to raise this baby, too.
This is no social commentary. I really don’t know what my opinion is about it, I just had to get it out there, because it was just too weird an experience to not share.

it's a small world, afterall

Santiago is a small place. Shoot, the whole country is small. Yesterday, I was in a public car (think of a Nissan Maxima cerca 1985. Now, take out the sideboards on the door, shove 4 people in the back seat and two in the passenger seat. Pay 15 pesos a ride and you’ve got a public car. Not nearly as hilarious as converted micro-minis with wooden seats filled with 21 people seated, 3 hanging from the back bumper and two standing in the door well… but just as efficient and cheap in getting me where I need to go) when this woman gets in kind of frantic (read: crazy). She doesn’t have any money save a 1,000 peso note. They’re going to operate on her brother, she says, and she left the house in a hurry. The three of us in the car each give her 5 pesos to pay, even though the driver was going to let her ride for free. (see, there still are good people in the universe).
She goes on to tell the tale of a wicked car accident including a dominican-york (a dominican living in the states is called that because, as you might know, the USA isn’t really the name, it’s REALLY new York. What part of New York do you live in? Boston? Oh, wonderful. Oh, your sister is in the states? no, she’s in New York? What borough? Oh, she lives in Miami. Go figure). Said Dom-york had rented a luxury SUV and felt the need to show off his wealth after drinking 10 bottles of Brugal rum and a case of Presidente beer. I don’t know who is worse – the idiot who decided to drive drunk, or the idiots who decided to go with him, but the point is, he crashed (surprised? Me neither).
So, now this poor lady’s brother is getting operated on for a broken leg (or something, I wasn’t really paying too much attention). Where did this happen? In the campo. Yah, but which campo? You know, the one near that place. I tune out in these discussions, usually, because I know very little about the outskirts of Santiago. However, people start talking about these little towns and Dominicans’ radars turn on. Because everyone here is related to everyone else. No lie.
These people in the car start talking about the town the accident took place in, and BAM! The guy in the front seat says, “No way, YOUR brother is Jose?” I’m your long lost 17th cousin three-times removed! Your dad is so-and-so, right?
People sometimes stop me and ask me if I’m Amalio’s wife. Then they tell me their bizarre family lineage and how they’re related not only to Amalio but also his adopted family (Amalio moved to Santiago after his mom died and lived with another family from the same town. He claims both). As if that proves that we’re doubly connected.
Living in a place with such strong family connections is weird, especially since the US is so “immediate” family oriented. I can’t imagine ever having conversations with a random stranger about how we’re related or even knowing who my 14th cousin is. I’m lucky to even know my first cousins (and luckier that I do, in fact, know both my mom’s and dad’s cousins and their kids).
When you first move to a different country and consider the differences it’s always the simple things, and they often seem like hardships. Can I eat the food? Do I speak the language well enough? Can I handle that my 32 year old boyfriend lives with his parents (and grandparents)? Is it possible to flush the toilet paper? Where will I wash my clothes? But there are so many hidden beauties that you never know until you’re immersed – living in a country, doing the day-to-day. And sometimes the differences aren’t hardships, but things you wish you had in your own life and culture. Knowing your family – even if it’s just by stories told by others – is such a gift. And always a surprise to run into your long lost 17th cousin three-times removed on public transportation.

gracias, gracias

The baby does not sleep. This is new for us because Samil is a champion sleeper. We tell Samil to lay down and in five minutes he’s out cold. Not Amely. She will scream and cry and carry on for hours to avoid sleeping, and then once we get her out, she wakes up 3-4 times!
Last night she somehow made her way into our bed. I think that she fell asleep with me and Amalio just didn’t put her in the crib before he lay down. So she was there all night. Tossing and turning and wanting to nurse. But not really wanting to nurse. Just kind of.
So, at 3:30 when Samil knocked on our door because he wanted water I hadn’t slept at all. I got him some water and let him sleep with Amalio, I went and threw Amely in the crib and lay down in his bed. I think she lasted 20 minutes in the crib. She doesn’t sleep well, but she also doesn’t like to sleep with us. So I should have known something wasn’t right. But I didn’t. I was tired and cranky. I put her in bed with me and went to sleep.
I was awoken by a stream of warm liquid streaming down the bed. Pee? No, friends. Amely had diarrhea and a broken diaper. How it broke is beyond me, but there it was. I got up hopped in the shower and came back for her. Cleaned her up and put her – diaper-less, stupid I know – on the floor waiting for the boys to get out of the bathroom where she proceeded to poop 3 more times in 3 seconds. In 3 different spots. Lovely.
Today is my first day back to work after a little vacation. Well, I’m going to meet a new student today and back to work for real tomorrow, but still. All vacation we did all right with the sleep and now, NOW, today we have the no-sleep, diarrhea issues.
Thank you, universe!

heat wave

It’s still cold at night. And by cold I mean like 70 degrees. It’s chilly and with the windows open and a fan on, one might even be confused into thinking they don’t live in the tropics. Until they wake up and the heat, the heat that starts at 6 am, smacks them in the face. Just a friendly reminder. You live on a Caribbean island. And welcome friends! It’s summer.
The water in the faucet is lukewarm, but even still, it’s so hot that that tepid water feels like ice cubes falling on your head. No lie. And the second you turn off the flow, the sweat comes and the hope of getting completely dry is gone.
Dominican women – pelo bueno or not – wash their hair minimally. And it gets done in the salon. All washed and conditioned and put in rollers to sit beneath that stand-up dryer. Or blown out. It’s a little much for me, but I won’t deny my trips to the salon when I’m too lazy to blow-out my own hair. Except in the summer.
Because not only is the heat enough to fry and egg on the sidewalk, it’s quite possible that there’s enough stagnant humidity in the air to boil an egg there as well. So, even if the salon is air-conditioned and the heat from the blower isn’t able to melt what’s left of you, as soon as you step a foot outside the hair goes right back into that nasty bad-perm curly after you spent an hour and 15 bucks getting your hair did.
The good thing about Dominican summer is that it happens to coincide with hurricane season. And while I’m the last one wishing any more natural disasters on this island (or nearby), hurricane force winds and rain are the only thing that truly cool this place off for more than an hour at a time. Of course it’s a horrid catch-22 because rains here tend to debilitate people here the way snow does in, say, Philadelphia. So, rain brings sweet relief only to be enjoyed from your own private balcony. And, of course, a bad hair day.
Tonight might be the last cool night I get for another three months. If that’s the case, don’t go looking for me in the salon down the street, I’ll be sitting under a fan with my feet in a cool bucket of water. And with no place to go, who cares if my hair looks like I just came in from a torrential downpour and then stuck my finger in the socket.

It sounds ridiculous, maybe, to talk about seasons in a tropical climate. But. There is a very distinct difference between the normal, good-natured warm of February-May and September-November and the ungodly, stifling, disgusting-ness that can be summer here.

It’s not heat so much as humidity in the summer – so staying out of the sun and under a fan only helps minimally. Most of our activity happens in the early morning and the evening to avoid over-exertion and swimming in pools of our own sweat. Alas. This post is about school, not the weather.

We don’t have a swimming pool – even though it’s on my “want” list for the roof I’m slowly grooming. I don’t want to buy one because my mom has one at her house for us; we just need to figure out how it’s getting here. Until then, though, we need water play. So, we take the old baby tubs up to the roof, fill them with water and a ton of toys and hide under the shade of some sheets hung over the clothes-lines (creativity is key in this heat!) I don’t have any pictures this week, but it is fun, I promise.

Samil has been working diligently on learning his shapes – especially triangles and squares. I traced some mini popsicle sticks (in an ABAB pattern) on a piece of paper and then let Samil match up the sticks with the shapes. After he did that, I pulled out the glue and let him stick them down.

I’ve been working on the kids’ bedroom since we moved in. I don’t have the luxury of kicking them out to paint it and we didn’t really want just a plain color anyway, so I’ve been stenciling some bright colored stars all over. Samil is in love with the stencils, so I pulled some out and let him have a go with water colors. I forgot that he uses way too much water and so the stencils only turned out half like the shapes they are. Once I get to the store to get some new poster paints, we’ll try again.

Samil is learning his letters, so we’ve been playing with all types of letters lately. His (and Amely’s) favorites are the letter magnets. We have metallic doors, so the magnets have moved from the fridge to the bedroom doors.

We had some visitors last Friday that we hope will be coming by weekly in the summer. They’re a little older than Samil, but they all play together well. We spent the afternoon chalking on the roof and “racing” different races (one-legged hop, elephant walk, rabbit jump, baby-crawl, etc…) and then we learned about Jonas and why we should obey God when he asks us to do something for him. We made a whale craft and called it a day. This week they came and we read Chicken Licken (in my hilarious last-minute translation into Spanish, ooops) and then we made construction paper chickens. You can definitely see the difference in level between the three!

What I learned this week: (I saw this on someone else’s tot-school and like the concept, but I completely don’t remember whose it was. If it’s yours, let me know so I can link to you!)
our new morning “schedule” has definitely improved my quality of life
I’m not a big fan of letting samil use glue by himself (the mess!)
Ceramic floors are great at keeping this cool, but horrible if you have kids because they get dirty so fast!

fresh air

When you live in an apartment, you have to find space wherever you can. Our new place is considerably bigger than our last apartment and we have a huge balcony, so the kids play “outside” more than they could before. But if you’re stuck in your house all day, every day, you can go stir crazy. Especially if you’ve got two little ones underfoot.
The middle school I went to was in the middle of the city and because of that, there was limited space. It had a nice gym, but there was no ground-space for an outdoor playground. So we played on the roof. There’s a big fenced in basketball court and two smaller areas to hang out. I don’t know if there still is, but there was a greenhouse, too. Talk about using space!
There are very few playgrounds here – and even fewer quality playgrounds. Getting out is hard. We got to the park and play with balls and bubbles and we walk around the neighborhood, but that is all a lot of effort from me. And sometimes I just want to sit back and watch. You know, without the responsibility of blowing the bubbles or bouncing the ball.
Our last place didn’t have a door to the roof and part of it was open, with no wall. We couldn’t play there. It even scared me to take Samil with me to hang the laundry. But this place has a great roof. It’s completely enclosed with a pretty high wall and the stairs have a metal gate. The only little problem is that it is a mess! There is a huge pile of left-over construction dirt/sand/gravel and every time the wind blows or it rains it gets scattered all over.
It’s my pet project now, though, and we’ve been spending time on the roof almost every day. We’ve moved up some of our plants with the idea of getting more up there soon. I take up some water and toys and the kids play while I sweep what I can and collect bags of dirt. I pulled out the sidewalk chalk and they’ve been chalking up a storm.
The plan for the roof is a little garden area to give Samil and Amely the experience of growing things – and the responsibility of taking care of it (well , Samil for now). I want to put a little plastic pool and have the floor debris-free enough to take the tricycles up there, too.
It’s amazing how creative we get with space when it’s limited. I hope my project turns out and that the kids like being outside more!